


A New Life: A Prequel to That Little Coffee Shop

by Ghostsucks



Series: A Little Coffee Series [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24876142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostsucks/pseuds/Ghostsucks
Summary: 1947 - Vincenzo Canali was a temporary teacher at some of London's greatest Universities. Moving around constantly he never stayed in a place more than a few years. His life changing when a mysterious black haired stranger who knew all his darkest secrets came into his life.Prequel to That Little Coffee Shop. We find out how Copia met Papa Emeritus the Third and became a member of his unholy church.
Series: A Little Coffee Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722913
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

1947, London. 

The University of London was a place where Vincenzo Canali felt at home. For years since the end of World War II he had struggled to settle down. To find a place where he could teach and be the closest version of himself that he could. 

It was around midday, he had just finished giving what few privileged students he could a lecture on religion. Though he disliked the current state of the world, and how they clung still so tightly to their God. He gravitated towards what he new best, but the added benefits of the job would also give him new experiences. 

The city itself was on the up. Migration bringing in new workers to rebuild the destroyed city. From his desk in his office, Vincenzo could still see some of the ruins. The buildings that had been torn by German bombs. Sometimes during the night he feels like he can still hear the sirens, the warning to find shelter. 

Vincenzo had seen too much death in his life. It was hard for him. Horse meat being a big source of food at the moment, or the poverty wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him truly was this God everyone looked up to spread so much destruction and still, somehow got so much love. 

The fire place in his office provided him some warmth as he watched the few students walk happily through the grounds. Discrimination still strong in the times, the university was currently in talks with allowing women to study part time. How he hated the world and what it was, he could see the potential. He just hoped he would witness the change soon. 

Books had always been a big part of his life, a way for him to escape. His office filled with them. The bookshelves that lined the walls so over full he had to resort to using his chairs, and occasionally the floor as a place to store them. Praying the rats wouldn't have their fun. Though if they did he could only blame himself. They only came into his office for the treats he would leave out. The small creatures deserving his kindness more than the humans around him.

His small appartment was much the same. 

The gloomy London day threatening to have rain fall at any moment, he had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was to happen today, and as the face of his pocket watch slowly ticked down the time, he waited. 

As the sun started to set, he finished working on the next lesson that he would teach. His tea had gone cold as he left it forgotten. Wanting a nice warm cup of chamomile tea to wind down before walking through the streets to his temporary home. He dabated whether the effort was worth it, but he did enjoy sitting Infront of the warm fire place, something his home was currently lacking.

Returning from the kicthens with his tea tray in hand, he noticed a light now coming from his slightly cracked door. Swearing he locked it before he left. He felt his hairs start to prick on the back of his neck.

As he carefully opened the door, a stranger sat at his desk. His feet resting up on the end as he made himself comfortable, reading the pages left for Vincenzo to finish. What he assumed was the strangers black suit jacket, sat hanging on his coat rack.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" He opened the door fully. The stranger didn't have a threatening aura to him, infact he got the opposite. He felt like he shouldn't be worried and trust whoever this man is.

"You left the door open" he spoke smooth and unphased, keeping his eyes glued on the papers Infront of him. Not turning a glance towards the man at the door.

"No, I did not" Vincenzo spoke as he made his way closer to the black haired man, and placing his tea on the edge of his desk. Still keeping his distance just incase his gut was wrong. Logically expecting this to go south at any moment.

"Uh, shoot, um.. Vincenzo right?" His feet came off the desk as his face contorted in thinking. His fingers wrapped in black leather clicked. 

"Yes, that is my name. Now who are you and why are you here?" He tried his best to sound threatening. All it did was elicit a giggle from the other man. 

"An unexpected one, I will admit" he spoke as he stood. His black suit clinging to him tighter than the current fashion trends. "How did you chose it?" 

"Excuse me?" Vincenzo watched as the man made his way around the desk, his feet stepping back to keep the distance. They circled the desk until Vincenzo was at his chair, and this stranger on the other side. 

"Thank you for the tea" the stranger poured himself a cup, like he expected to be welcomed into Vincenzo's private space "it's good to relax the nerves, yes?" 

"Who. Are. You." Vincenzo repeated the question, speaking through gritted teeth in an attempt to sound angry.

"Oh father, no need to get so mad." He spoke. The smirk on his face turning to a grin as he watched the fright in Vincenzo's eyes. "I'm suprised you fell back into religion" 

Vincenzo felt his heart rate speed up. The sweat drops staring to form on his forehead as his breath quickened.

"The beard is a nice look, but I liked the moustache better" the stranger made his way, tea still in hand. Slowly getting closer to a shocked still Vincenzo. "Please, take my card. Call me when you want to talk" he held out a small black card. "Father Alessandro Emeritus" written on it in gold writing. The style unfitting for the times.

Vincenzo couldn't move. His arms glued to his side as the man never broke eye contact. He never noticed until he was too close. This strangers eyes were a reflection of his. 

As the man slipped the card into Vincenzo's pocket, he started making his way to the door. "have a good night, Father Copia. I look forward to hearing from you" 

Vincenzo's heart feeling like sunk into his gut. As he watched the man place his jacket on his shoulders, before leaving and shutting the door behind him with a quiet thunk. 

"Copia" he thought to himself. He he not been called that name in so long. Hearing it now made his heart sink with worry. Without thinking twice his body kicked into autopilot. His arms working as they quickly packed up his things, his legs moving as quick as they could. 

He ran through the halls, his briefcase in hand, filled with some of his clostest possessions as he began his journey back to his apartment. Taking short cuts where he could he arrived home in record time. 

His small dilapidated apartment was empty and cold. A sigh of relief as he pulled his suitcase out from under his single bed. Packing what he could. 

"Fuck fuck fuck" he swore to himself. His heart rate never ceasing. He could feel the pool of sweat developming under his arms, and on his back. 

Beginning to feel light headed he say on his thin mattress. The springs squeaking loudly as his weight came down upon it. It truly started to sink in now. The room beggining to spin, he tried his hardest. Using all the techniques he had learned through his lives to ground himself. None of them working. 

His vision started creeping In as his breathing became more shallow. Finally falling back on his bed, the attack took him. His eyes falling shut as darkness claimed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a chapter 2!  
> Hoping now that i have finished the main fic ill be able to work on this more

Vincenzo in his small bed, his head pounding from the earlier panic attack. His mind racing as he quickly remembered the source of his panic.

“They found me” he spoke aloud to himself.

Rising from his feet, he quickly felt his way around the room. Searching for some candles to light his way. The air in the room chilly as the sun had long set before he woke. He could feel the sweat forming on his skin as he so drastically flung his arms, hoping to come into contact with a table or something to help him find his way through his apartment. 

_fuck_

Everything sitting on the table he had just crashed into clattered to the ground. He quickly dropped to his knees, slapping the floor and hoping a candle had not rolled away far enough to where he couldn’t reach from this position. _yes_ his hand grabbed a cylinder object. His body immediately identifying it as one of his candles. He continued feeling around, the candle clung to his chest so he would not drop it and possibly lose it once more. Another sign of victory as he found the box of his matches.

Sitting back on his haunches, he relied completely on his other senses to light a match. The beautiful orange spark lighting the match sending a welcomed burst of warm light into this room. His heart racing as he started to make the to-do list in his head. One he was all too used to making. 

He was mumbling to himself. Mumbling words that wouldn’t make sense to anyone currently listening to him, but the jumbled words made sense to him. The list in his mind is only short as he decided what was important and what was not. 

Using the candle he made his way through the face. Walking on creaking floors that he was scared he could fall through at any moment. Finally, at the bathroom sink, he placed the candle just on its edge, allowing him to do what he could with two free hands.

The water running cold as he turned on the squeaking tap. Taking minutes to run a clear colour instead of the murky brown that it first spat out. Once the water was to where he wanted, he placed the plug in the sink. Filling it halfway before turning it off. Taking the scissors that were sitting next to his razor he started to hack at the beard that was currently covering his face. Watching as the clippings fell all around him, uncaring of where they fell. Once his beard was short enough he grabbed the small, half-empty tube of shaving cream. Lathering his cheeks, jaw, and chin until everything was evenly coated. 

Picking up his straight razor he took a few deep breaths. Staring at his reflection as his body started to calm down. He needed a steady hand and anxiety wouldn’t help with that. He had no idea how long he stayed there, staring at himself. At every little line and dip in his face, wondering when he got so old. At least at that, he could laugh to himself. 

With the razor now pressed at the right angle to his face, he started to drag it down his skin. Being careful not to nick himself accidentally. The skin that hasn’t seen the light of day in years was now exposed. The flakes of dry skin falling away as he ran the blade over the skin again. 

He was halfway shaved his face. Deciding to go with the look he had always seemed to gravitate to. A moustache with some shortened mutton shops. Taking once last small breath he started on the other side, stylising his face to what he knew best. Flinching as he nicked his skin on one of the final few passes. 

The foaming soap below turning pink as the blood dripped down. To hypnotised by the sight to do anything to stop it. For the moment he felt peace, completely thrown out of his current life as he washed the blood swirl around within the water. The sight was beautiful and rare. 

“You know, Caro, usually when I cut myself shaving I stop the bleeding” a voice, smooth, came from behind him as he turned around with a shout. Knocking over the candle subsequently extinguishing its flame. Casting them both in darkness. 

The darkness not lasting long as the black-haired man from early lit a match in front of his face. The orange glow casting beautiful shadows over his face. 

“I will admit that I thought your house would be a bit more,” he paused to look around in the darkness. His eyes gazing at what he could see “comely” he turned back to Vincenzo, flashing a charming smile at him.

His breath coming out shaking as he cast his eyes to the man he assumed would bring his death “how did you find me.” His eyes glancing behind the man, a silver mask reflecting the light catching his attention. He wasn’t alone, and that set his body into fight or flight mode. And unfortunately for Vincenzo, his body kicked into flight. With only one exit, he only had one option; push through both men and hopefully, make it to his front door where he could run out into the street. Only he had no way of telling if there wasn’t more, but it was either risk it or die in this shitty bathroom. 

Taking a deep breath he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t planning to run, but as he squared his shoulders and took the first steps forward he was suddenly picked up by an arm blocking his exit. His body slammed to the ground with a force he had never felt before. 

Closing his eyes, he opened them slowly to see the black-haired man on tip of him. His black hair falling into his face, almost blocking them body from any prying eyes. He could see his lips moving but barely heard any noise. 

“-don’t sleep” the man was yelling at him, sitting back he pointed to the other man behind him. The other and now holding a candle. His head snapping back to him as his mouthed moved.

He could barely keep his eyes opened. The darkness of the room creeping in on him. He couldn’t tell if it was by the candle that was sitting on the floor burning out the last of the wick, or if his unfocused eyes were playing tricks. As he gazed upwards into panicked eyes, his mind started to put the pieces together. 

He watched as the man reached behind him, grabbing something and bringing his hands in front of him. His hands covered in a red, blurry liquid his brain couldn’t discern. 

“Copia-“ his eyes snapped back to the man over him “keep your eyes open” his voice coming and then fading out like he was walking away, but he wasn’t, he was right there. 

“Father-“ Vincenzo tried to speak. 

“Father” more words he couldn’t understand “si”

Italian, a language he had missed hearing spoken to him. He made a groggy mental note to find more people who spoke It. His eyes focusing on the man again, before the edges of his vision finally caved in. Sending him back into the black abyss.


End file.
